


Manhandled

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Five Times, Multi, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Enjolras being man-handled by the Amis of your choice." over on the makinghugospin livejournal. Five times Enjolras was shoved around by Les Amis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manhandled

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I forgot Eponine and Gav, howww. 
> 
> Anyway. Not sure if I'm pleased with this, because it feels really out of character and maybe doesn't make sense and probably uses too many of my own headcanons but
> 
> ugh
> 
> well, I had fun writing it, so maybe you'll take some satisfaction out of reading it? :)

O N E: Jehan

"...don't see snow as an excuse to cancel the rally. We need to stick to that date for-- Jehan?" Enjolras was pulled from his contemplations by the hand of his friend suddenly holding tightly to his wrist. It was dark and they'd been walking home from the café, about to part ways at the next intersection for their respective dorm rooms. 

Jehan shushed him and quickened their pace, still holding tight to Enjolras with no explanation given. "Walk on the left side of me." 

"Wha-?" Enjolras glanced at Jehan then back on the buildings on their right. A bank. A SubWay. A tattoo parlor. Then the alley. "What's wrong with me walking on your right?" 

Jehan just repeated his earlier request, eying the alley way entrance. Both pedestrians could see a faint light glowing, correctly assuming it would be the horny middle-aged men of the city looking for one a night with one of the streetwalkers known to be in the area. The street was fine during the day, but Les Amis at been at the Musain much later than normal today and the darker part of the night life was active. 

Enjolras tugged his arm from Jehan's and slowed their hurried walk. They were strong adults and the poet was just being paranoid, a quality that looked better on Joly.

"Dammit, Enjolras!" Jehan hissed before grabbing the blonde and yanking him closer to the street, forcing him to walk on the left side, allowing Jehan to be closer to the mouth-breathers of the alleyway. 

Enjolras made no attempts to fight his way back to the right. Jehan was clearly the stronger one, no matter how many sonnets of flowers he spun. The men sitting on over-turned crates, smoking ancient (stolen) cigars got quiet for a second as they passed. Enjolras slowed, glaring at the inebriates and receiving a loud wolf-whistle in return. Jehan grabbed his arm again, guiding their 'leader' to keep going, but they both still heard the comment from a smoker's throat:

"Fucking shame if that genderqueer wasn't used as a child."

Jehan kept pushing Enjolras on, ignoring the fire in his eyes and the laughter echoing behind them.

T W O: Courfeyrac

Enjolras had again been roped into a party, though it was held in Cappa Nu Delta's who were known as the tamer, more study-focused Greek house of this university. Combeferre was a member and the high chance of being allowed to hide in his room was the only reason Enjolras had decided to come, no matter what Courfeyrac said. 

Unfortunately, Combeferre's roommate had other plans involving two blonde twins with toilet-paper stuffed bras (though Michel was probably too drunk to notice) and the two amis were banished into the hallway to Combeferre's horror. "If my sheets are even slightly out of place-!" Enjolras blocked out the rest of the sentence, already heading downstairs and, hopefully, out the front door.

But fate had other plans, and Enjolras had barely made it into the living room before a tequila-up'd Courfeyrac was in his face, shouting the lyrics to "No Man's Woman." Enjolras tried to shove by him but Courf shook his head, and grabbed the sober's bicep to pull him to the couch. Enjolras was propelled onto his back on the wet leather (he hoped it was only spilled whiskey), a wobbly Courfeyrac laying across him. Regardless of being pressed chest to chest against his will, Enjolras felt no danger. Courfeyrac was a friend and this had happened before.

Combeferre finally made it to the couch and was about to yank the brunette off their mutual friend, but Enjolras gestured for him to stop. Courfeyrac would pass out any second, then they could drag him home. He was still singing Sinead O'Connor songs and now using Enjolras's hands to act out the lyrics, but finally collapsed onto the shoulder of his fellow ami, predictably. 

It took some extra effort on Comebeferre's part, but Courfeyrac was rolled off of Enjolras without injury and eventually made it to his own bed several blocks away. 

Enjolras was not sympathetic towards his hangover the next morning. 

T H R E E: Grantaire

Another day, another meeting.

For Grantaire, another bottle of cold Heineken delivered by Cosette, the newest bartender at the Musain.

Enjolras stood at the head of the table, talking of the rally they had to postpone due to "inopportune weather" and Grantaire couldn't help but snort into the hand he was using to wipe across his tired face. 

He looked up, the beams of Enjolras's eyes on him as expected "Something you wish to say?" 

"Inopportune weather or an inopportune cause, Enj? You all know you didn't have enough people to make a point anyway," he said carefully, wanting to say it, but needing to be careful about the battles he chose. 

Enjolras pushed his chair back, acting as though he were contemplating Grantaire's words (but obviously he wasn't. Grantaire's opinion was nihilistically biased.) before walking to stand behind Grantaire's chair. The lush stood, leaving the beer on the table for once and taking a stance face-to-face with the most important Ami (for without Him, there was no We).

"And what do you know of belief? It's common knowledge you're only here out of lust." Enjolras said, face neutral. 

"Oh? And what do you know of lust? A man who goes into heat only when he hears the happy cries of people he's pretending to have freed?" Grantaire found himself shoved into the back of his chair, Enjolras's hands holding tight to his shoulders.

"We're doing something right here. For the good of mankind!" Grantaire chuckled at Enjolras's words before bringing his own hands up, pushing his sole Belief into the column near the table seated with the silent amis. Enjolras tried to push Grantaire off him, expression slightly uneasy at how quickly the tables have turned, but the dark-haired man held him there strong. 

"You're trying to do something right. Who knows if you'll ever succeed? But you're doing this because of some moral obligation it seems while I at least have true cause. Feeling like a better person than everyone else is pathetic reasoning, but the love of another? At least that's passion." Grantaire pulled away from Enjolras, giving a chipper wave to those still at the table before heading out of the café, coat forgotten. 

Enjolras left soon after. Meeting adjourned. 

F O U R: Joly and Bossuet

Two months of winter had passed, but there were still many weeks of snow left. Today, it came down slowly but left anyway outside in a frigid cold that seemed more fitting for Russia than their little university. Les Amis had somehow been persuaded to bundle up in their warmest clothes and attempt to recruit the students who had also risked the cruel weather.

It had been nearly an hour and a half when Enjolras felt the world start to spin in a way that wasn't explained by his shivers. He tried to ignore the sensations and was mostly successful, only feeling truly sick when he had to bend down to pick up Combeferre's dropped car keys. The pre-law student's glasses had fogged up and he couldn't exactly search through the snow drift. Courfeyrac accused him of just not wanting to get his hands dirty.

When Enjolras stood back up (too quickly, much too quickly) his vision blacked out for a moment as one's vision does, but when the world came back he was on his back on the snow with several worried faces overtop him. "'m fine..." he muttered, attempting to stand. 

Joly was the one who pushed him back down. Bossuet made sure he didn't try to stand again. The group hypochondriac cleared everyone else away and gestured for Bossuet to take Enjolras's left arm. Joly had the right.

The pair boosted him back to his feet, but he swayed too much for the soon-to-be-doctor's liking. Joly told Bossuet to "keep a steady grip while we get him inside. That's the Political Science building right?"

Enjolras felt too weak to make any arguments and let himself be dragged away from his friends with their pamphlets and into the heated university building. Bossuet took Joly's command to hold tight a bit too seriously and even when Enjolras was resting securely on a bench, the bald ami kept him propped up (lest he attempt an escape?). Joly returned with a glass of water and Enjolras realized it was bad sign he hadn't noticed his friend's disappearance. 

Joly was knelt in front of the blonde, hands on the other's boots and a questioning look in his eye.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"Seven times seven?"

"Fourty-nine."

"Home address?"

"1109 Noble Boulevard."

"Last time you ate?"

"I... Dunno."

Joly sighed and pulled a small pack of peanut butter crackers from his coat pocket. "I'm going to tell everyone else what happened. Boss, make sure he eats these."

Enjolras finally felt the pressure lift of his left arm, but it only made him relax more, allowing him to finally sleep.

He didn't know when the last time he slept was, either.

F I V E: Bahorel

 

Marius was torn between hiding his blush or laughing at the crude joke that had just poured from Bahorel's lips. The rest of the table howled and even Cosette muffled a chuckle as she dropped off their drinks, sliding an ink-covered napkin towards Marius, whose eyes widened at the seven digits scribbled there.

Enjolras was coming late this evening. He'd wanted to have a meeting with Professor Lamarque about... something. No one had really listened, except Combeferre, but he was scrolling through some webpage on his smart phone. Apparently it was more important than volunteering the information on their leader's whereabouts. 

When Enjolras finally did arrive, Bahorel was in the middle of yet-another tale of his various exploits with the women of the college. This catch had been particularly difficult for him and he explained them all how many different methods he'd had to try just to get her to talk to him. 

"Eventually, I just threw subtlety out the window, y'know?" he said, standing quickly as though an idea had sparked him. 

Enjolras hadn't been paying attention to them, still unbuttoning his coat to put it on the stand by the door. Bahorel threw a wink to the tables of Les Amis before coming to stand beside Enjolras, who shot him an uncertain look. Arms were suddenly thrown around him and a face was nuzzled into the spot between Enjolras's shoulder and neck. "Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Babe. You are the hottest thing since that comet that wiped out those dinosaurs and here I am, the sexiest thing since Jake Gyllenhall in Donnie Darko. So please, oh please! Have sex with me."

Enjolras tried to knock off Bahorel, but it only prompted more giggles from the corner of the Musain containing his friends. The blonde finally caught on to what was happening, having seen Bahorel demonstrate on other amis before. "Oh, but you big burly man! I have a girlfriend!" Enjolras shouted in a high pitch, a grin spreading across his face. 

Bahorel held on tighter. "A threesome then. Please."

Enjolras lifted a hand to push at the other man's head. "But you smell like coffee and Gr-Grace is allergic to coffee." He was starting to tip a bit, lose his balance.

Bahorel didn't let go and didn't see the expression on Enjolras's face. He was worried now, wanting to be let go of. The game was over. 

"Gr-Grace? What a strange name."

"Sh-she's a strange girl. An artist. Weird, right? Maybe we can still go to your place. You'll just have to get off me." Enjolras lost his fake girl-voice at the end, center of gravity completely shifted as he fell towards the ground, his arms still held by Bahorel. They fell together, but Bahorel landed on top, elbow in Enjolras's back.

"Please get off me."

The rest of Les Amis were cackling, probably disrupting the entirety of the café's other visitors. (Probably, certainly. Though there weren't many others there on Thursday nights. Most regulars knew to stay away from the "social justice group in the corner.") 

Enjolras was dragged to his feet by the strongest of their group, who probably thought he was helping. He wasn't. Enjolras just wanted to get to the table and continue with their meeting and not be moved against his will again. He'd noticed that pattern recently. Enjolras never really minded, but his image couldn't be of someone that was weak. 

That's what it was: His weakness on display. 

Not his friends' strength.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave any constructive criticism in the comments or links to other prompts on the kink meme that you'd like me to fill! Sleep tight, my sweets, and dream of dragons.


End file.
